


Tumblr Writings

by UnfortunatelyObsessed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Drowley, Fluff, M/M, Poetry, Tumblr Prompts, Whump, for a chapter anyway, prose, tumblr pieces
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-09-06 14:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16834288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyObsessed/pseuds/UnfortunatelyObsessed
Summary: Thar be me Tumblr ficlet backup! Yar!Errrr, it's mostly destiel, but there's also just a bunch of supernatural stuff thrown in there, too, so... have at it.





	1. What They Really Need

Mary rubs her eyes, trying to stay awake. She has been up for hours, trying to track down a single, small, _stupid_ object.

“Hey, Mom,” Sam says, sitting down beside her and offering up a cup of coffee. “Long night, huh?”

Mary gives him a small smile and accepts the warm drink and the respite from tiredness he offers. “Yeah. I just-… It’s kind of stupid, but I was hoping maybe I could find my wedding ring. The meaning is long gone, I just… I dunno. I wanted to know what happened to it.”

Sam raises his eyebrows and gives her a small smile. “Oh, is that all? You should’ve asked one of us. Dean’s had it for years.”

Now it’s Mary’s turn to look surprised. “What? He has it?”

Sam nods, taking a drink from his own coffee. “Yeah. I’m sure if you asked, he would let you look at it. He might give it back, but I wouldn’t place any bets on that. It means a lot to him.”

Mary nods, almost to herself. “I wouldn’t ask for it back. I just… wanted to see it again, after everything.”

Sam gives her a small smile. “Reminds you that there was a simpler time?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

As if on cue, Dean walks into the room, bundled up in his robe. “Morning,” he grunts, going to get himself some caffeine.

“Hey, Dean,” Mary starts slowly. “Sam tells me you have my wedding ring?”

Dean pauses with the mug to his lips. “Why?”

“I was just hoping I might could see it again.”

Dean frowns for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure.” He walks out of the room, yelling, “Cas! Mom wants to see your ring!”


	2. The Wrong Idea

Castiel crowds into Dean’s space, smiling softly. “It’s okay,” he whispers, touching Dean’s shoulder reverently. “It’s just us.”

“Just us…” Dean repeats shakily. His eyes dart down to Castiel’s lips.

Castiel leans in slowly, giving Dean time to back away. Dean parts his lips just barely, eyes slowly closing, leaning forward.

He pauses.

“Dean?” Castiel whispers, his breath ghosting across Dean’s lips.

Dean looks down at his shoulder. “That’s… That’s the wrong shoulder.”

“What?”

Dean backs away, stumbling over something on the ground. “That’s the wrong shoulder. Cas doesn’t touch that shoulder.”

Castiel blinks in surprise. “I… was not aware that I touched a particular shoulder.”

Dean nods. “Cas does. But Lucifer touched the wrong one, and now you did, too.” His face turns pale. “Is this… Is this a dream? Oh my God… Michael… You’re still in control…”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrow, his mouth frowning in worry. “Dean, it’s me. Look,” he walks over and puts his hand on the correct shoulder. “I apologize for worrying you.”

Dean backs into the wall. “You’re not Cas.”

Castiel crowds into his personal space again, eyes misty. “Dean. It’s me. I promise you it is me. I didn’t realize how deeply you have been hurt.”

Tears run down Dean’s cheeks. “Don’t. Don’t. Please, don’t…”

Castiel’s thumb traces across Dean’s cheek bone. “If you will allow me, I am sure I could ease your concerns.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, breath ragged. “No, no, don’t, don’t…”

Castiel’s lips brush against Dean’s, and Dean lets out a sob.

“I can’t, I can’t-”

“Dean.”

“No!”

“Dean…”

“Please…”

“Dean.”

“You’re not…”

“Dean. I love you.”

Dean feels his soul begin to scream and he lets it, lets it pour out of him until he’s standing in a new place, breathing as if he has been drowning for months.

He opens his eyes to see a bloodied Castiel, kneeling at his feet, clutching his jacket sleeve. He drops to his knees and takes Castiel’s face in his shaking hands.

“Castiel,” he chokes out, fighting against the raging in his mind. “I love you, too.”

Castiel blinks and lets out a soft sound, his eyes gleaming like the water, blood smeared across his cheeks.

“And I’m sorry,” Dean finishes, turning the archangel blade into his own stomach.

Dean expected a scream. A yell. A look of pure terror.

Not a self-satisfied smirk as the world turned dark, just before Michael stretched out to fill his newly-emptied vessel.


	3. Watch Over Me

Dean stared at the table before him, listening to the soft sounds of everyone going to bed. His hands tightened to fists as his eyes squeezed shut.

“Dean,” a soft voice said behind him, making him jump.

He turned his eyes to the worried ones of Castiel.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Cas said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Dean saw it. The way he waited for that snark, that response that was just so _Dean_ that it was expected.

Dean cast his eyes back down to the table.

He listened to the scrape of chair legs on the floor as Castiel sat down beside him.

“Are you okay?” Castiel whispered.

Dean shook his head.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Dean shook his head again.

Cas watched Dean’s fingers twitch absently. Cas offered, “What if I brought you a pen and some paper?”

Dean stood up suddenly, walking towards the hall. He paused and looked back, waiting for Castiel.

Castiel followed him.

Their walk was slow and steady, Dean’s eyes casting back to make sure Cas was still there.

They made it to Dean’s room and he opened the door, gazing into Castiel’s eyes as he stepped in. Castiel hesitated just a moment before following.

Dean stood in the center of the room, worrying the edge of his shirt. He sighed - the first sound Cas had heard him make - and took off his shirt and pants, tossing them to the side.

The sad look he gave Cas had Cas doing the same.

Dean slid under his covers and lifted them for Cas, who slipped under, too. He wasn’t used to the way this fabric felt against his bare skin, but it didn’t matter.

Dean searched his eyes, and Castiel unearthed the terror shifting in Dean’s.

“I’ll watch over you,” Castiel whispered.

The tension left Dean’s face, a bit of calm rippled in his eyes.

He didn’t sleep immediately. His eyes remained open, studying Castiel like he was afraid he would forget that stubble, those eyes, that hair.

His leg shifted until his foot was just barely touching Cas’s, and then he finally closed his eyes.

Castiel watched over him.


	4. Number the Stars

“What do you want me to say?!” Castiel yelled, far past his wit’s end.

“That I did the right thing!” Dean yelled back. “That it’s _okay_ that I said yes to Michael!”

“ _Dean_ -”

Dean couldn’t stop. “I want you to tell me everything is going to be okay! That I’ll have my Bunker back to myself! That I didn’t make some stupid, shit mistake!”

Castiel huffed in irritation.

Dean took a deep breath to yell again, but found his chest deflating. “I want you to tell me you want me around.”

Castiel’s head tilted to the side.

“I want you to tell me that you won’t leave me. That you care about me. That you stay up late and think about kissing me.”

Cas’s eyes softened.

“I want you to tell me that you could number the stars with reasons you love me. I want you to tell me that oceans couldn’t keep us apart.”

“Dean?”

Dean’s eyes were screwed shut. “I want…” he whispered. “I want you to tell me all the things I want to tell you.”

Castiel laid a gentle hand on his shoulder until Dean looked at him. “I can’t number the stars with reasons why I love you, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes were watery.

Castiel smiled and whispered, “There aren’t that many stars.”


	5. My Michael Theory

Okay so my current theory is that since Dean’s deal involved him being in control, Michael himself is gone, but his grace is not. Which, to me, explains why Cas has been shown as so weak. For Lucifer/Anael parallels.

And, in light of that, a scene:

“Will it hurt?” Dean asks hesitantly, sitting on his bed. A lightbulb shatters as his eyes flash blue and he flinches. “I uh… I guess it can’t hurt more than it already does.”

Castiel lays a gentle hand on his shoulder - HIS shoulder. “I promise you I will not hurt you. If you get uncomfortable, all you have to do is ask me to stop and I will. I’m only doing this for you.”

“Yeah, but it helps you, too,” Dean says breathily, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Castiel looks upon the dark circles under them with pity. “That’s secondary.”

Dean glances to the side, and Cas sits beside him on the bed. Their eyes lock.

“Are you ready?” Castiel asks softly.

Dean nods and grunts out, “Just do what you gotta do.”

Cas lays a gentle hand on the side of his neck and Dean blinks in surprise. His breath grows slow as Cas presses his lips against the side of Dean’s neck, and then his eyes are slipping closed and his head is leaning backwards.

It’s like the pain is being sucked out, like all the terror and horror that had been POUNDING at his skull are finally quieting down, resting in the glory of Castiel’s mouth.

Dean isn’t sure how much time passes. Maybe a minute. Maybe a year.

Castiel finally pulls back, and Dean can think straight for the first time in days.

“Are you okay?” Castiel whispers.

Dean realizes all in one rush how desperately he wants those lips back.

“Yeah I… I’m okay.”


	6. Imagine

You have a home. A life. A job. You do what needs to be done. You are happy with your life.

You’re walking to work one day when you see an ant on the sidewalk.

It’s walking very fast, but, as it is, it’s an ant, and that’s slow to you.

You crouch down to watch.

Where is it going? What is it doing? Why the rush?

You follow it steadily. You’re missing work.

The poor thing is hungry. Well, hell. You can’t let it walk all this way just to starve.

You give it a crumb and it seems very happy.

There’s a hose laying across the sidewalk, and the ant can’t get over it itself. You grab a nearby leaf and let the creature on, setting it down on the other side of the obstacle.

Its little antennae wiggle in thanks, and you smile.

Your boss calls and asks where you are.

You can’t just… You can’t just LEAVE this ant! What if someone steps on it?!

You quit work.

Your family calls. They say it’s either them or the ant.

But… The ant is so close to its destination…

You choose the ant.

You lose your friends.

You lose your house.

It’s raining, but you use your hand like an umbrella for this tiny being, and you can’t regret your choices.

Its life is so short, and you try not to think about that. You just think about your little ant, and how much happier you have made it.

You are Castiel.

Your ant is Dean.

But the real kicker here is this:

What do you do when the ant dies?


	7. Light a Fire in my Name

When all is gone

And only sunlight remains

Shining down on the rusted shell

Of our former glory –

Light a fire in my name.

When our gravestones have broken

And our bodies fed the Earth

When our trees grow tall –

Light a fire in my name.

When my name is simply that:

A lost memory,

A forgotten tale,

Send it up in flames, as you did my body –

Let my fire grow tall and hot.

Let it remind you - if only for a moment -

That, yes, I was real, and

Yes, I walked this world.

My feet stood where you are -

My soul reverberated within my bones.

Then let me grow small and cold,

Until only embers remain.

And, once the rain washes away my ash -

Let me go.

Light a fire in my name,

Then -

Please.

Let me die.


	8. King of the Crossroads

When Dean returned from Hell, he thought it was all over. The demons, the deals. He vowed to never dig at a crossroads again.

Then Jo and Ellen died.

He marched himself down to the crossroads and dug, buried the stupid box in the stupid hole, and turned to face a stupid face.

“Dean-”

“Don’t give me that shit, Crowley! They just died! They _fucking_ died and-… and…”

Dean was shaking and tears were falling down his cheeks. Crowley huffed in irritation and held him awkwardly as Dean’s crying subsided.

“Let me make a deal,” Dean whispered.

“No,” Crowley whispered back.

—

Sam was dead.

Heh. “Dead.”

If only that’s all it was.

Dean had screamed at the crossroads night after night until, finally, Crowley appeared, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley bitched. “You’re driving all of us insane! Can’t you take the hint?”

“Me for him. Immediately. I ain’t asking for time. I-… I’m asking for my brother.”

Crowley sighed. “As tempting as those lips might be, boy, the answer is no.”

Dean stared at him, his face slowly falling as he realized the truth. Sammy was gone, and there was nothing he could do.

“Fuck,” Crowley muttered, taking a step forward to catch Dean as he fell to his knees. Crowley rolled his eyes and rubbed Dean’s back until the shaking had subsided.

—

Castiel walked into that damn river.

“Dean, really. We have to quit meeting like this.”

Dean’s hands were in his pockets. His head was down.

“Can you bring him back?” Dean asked softly.

“I won’t make a deal with you, Dean.”

This time, Dean closed the gap, resting his forehead against Crowley’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

“Can you just kill me now and get this over with, then?”

Crowley sighed and held Dean close. “Afraid not.”

—

Dean was throwing shit this time.

Every item in the damn box.

He was throwing it at Crowley, face red, tears streaming, voice hoarse.

“He was my _father!_ Why can’t you just take me instead?!”

Crowley ducked under a bone. “Believe me, Squirrel. We were _both_ fond of dear old Bobby. My answer, however, is still no.”

_“Fuck you!”_

Crowley sighed and pulled Dean in, holding him easily despite his punching and kicking. “Calm down, love. You’re going to tear my suit.”

Dean’s struggles subsided. He muttered, “Fuck your suit,” without any real bite behind the words.

—

Dean blinked blearily in surprise.

“Beat you here this time. I’m sensing a trend.”

“Charlie…”

“Yes. Charlie. You seem very intent upon sacrificing yourself for the people you love, you know. It’s somewhat of a character flaw.”

Dean just looked at him through red-rimmed eyes. “Please?”

“You already know my answer, darling.” Crowley held out his arms, and Dean stumbled into them, hiding his face in Crowley’s shoulder.

—

Dean patted the dirt back onto the box and laid down, curled into the fetal position. The night wind blew his hair, and he shivered. Crickets chirped, someone honked a horn very far away, and the stars twinkled.

No one showed up.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget what had happened.

It didn’t work.

“C'mon,” Dean whispered. “Show up. You gotta show up. You always-…” His voice drifted off, breath shuddering.

Sam found him in the morning, ushering him into the car.

“We’ll get Crowley back,” Sam whispered. “And Cas, too. We always do.”


	9. How Dean Figures It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyy special thanks to @0sassyspice0 over on Tumblr for going through my writing tag and liking all my stuff so I could find it again!

Castiel was talking about their case, something about a ghost problem. Dean couldn’t resist it and he said, “I ain’t afraid of no ghost.”

He wasn’t expecting a reaction. Not really. But Cas paused and smiled a little, eyes turned to Dean, and suddenly Dean knew every atom in Castiel’s body. Every wrinkle. Every curve. The slope of his lips. The ridge of his nose. The callouses on his hands, splayed out on the table. Dean knew it all.

He took a step back. And another.

“Dean?” Those lips pulled into a soft frown, more lines forming a Van Gogh sketch across Castiel’s face.

Dean only registered the sound of the door slamming behind him once he had made it outside. He doubled over and breathed heavy, trying to erase the sudden realization that he had.

Sam was a few seconds behind him.

“Dean? Dean! What’s wrong?” Sam gently pulled him upright, and Dean ran his hands through his own hair.

“It’s… Sam… Dammit, his smile…” Dean’s eyes met Sam’s, wild with panic, as he whispered, “It’s perfect.”


	10. The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tagged: Major Character Death

Castiel’s breath was wet and ragged, blood dribbling from his lips. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop anything, not even the shaking of his limbs.

Dean crouched over him as Sam propped Cas’s head in his lap.

“Cas?” Dean asked quietly.

Castiel’s eyes travelled across Dean’s face drunkenly, until they reached his eyes. “Say it,” Cas whispered.

“Cas-”

“Say it, please. Just this once. I-… I need to hear it, even if it’s not true.”

Dean’s hand rested against Castiel’s cheek. “I can’t… I can’t say it if it’s not true.”

“Very well.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, overcome by how intensely he felt what he was about to say.

“Castiel… I… I love you.”

Dean opened his eyes, but it didn’t matter.

Castiel was already gone.


	11. How Sam Finds Out

Cas and Dean are off researching somewhere in the Bunker. Sam is in the entrance room when an angel gets in. He manages to make a sigil without it noticing and banishes it. Almost immediately, he gets a call from Cas.

“Sam.”

“Hey, Cas, dude, I’m so sorry! There was an angel that snuck in and I-”

“It’s okay. I understand. I just…” Cas trails off.

“Um, Cas?”

“I’m here, just… Um… I have a… I can’t be there for a while.”

“I know. Sigil.”

“Yeah um… Could you… Could you close your eyes and throw a lockpicking set on Dean’s bed please?”

“What.”

“… Do you actually want me to explain or-”

“No! No! GOD no! I’ll… Ahem, yeah, I’ll do that.”


	12. How I Think the First Destiel Kiss Will Go

Dean sat on the couch, looking anywhere but Cas. “I don’t know, man. Things have been so weird lately and I’m just…” He breathed out slowly and met Cas’s eyes, “I’m glad you’re here, buddy.”

Cas gave him a small smile and sat beside him, too close as always. “Thank you. I’m… glad I’m here, too.”

They stared at each other for a moment, one single, long moment, before Dean started to lean in. He didn’t know what he was doing; it was just _happening_ and he couldn’t stop his body if he wanted to.

And, dammit, he didn’t want to.

It was soft, a gentle press of lips to lips before he pulled back and checked to make sure Castiel was still on board. He didn’t even get halfway back before he was dragged into another kiss, this one deeper and passionate.

Within seconds Dean found himself straddling Cas, kissing him senseless because _oh_ Cas was wonderful and _oh_ Cas was perfect and -

“Would you do anything for me, Dean?” Castiel asked, lips slightly swollen.

Dean moved his kisses to Cas’s jaw. “Of course. Yes. Anything.”

“Would you kill Sam for me?”

“Yes,” Dean breathed without hesitation.

There was the sound of the door opening and suddenly Castiel’s angel blade was pressed against Dean’s neck.

Not that he noticed.

“Don’t come any closer,” Cas told someone else, “or I will kill him.”

“Get the fuck off of him!” Sam’s voice snarled.

“First, he’s actually on me, and second,” the siren drawled, “I think I might have a better idea.” It turned its attention back to Dean. “Dean, baby?”

Dean reluctantly removed his lips from Castiel’s neck, pulling back to gaze into those perfect, _perfect_ blue depths. “Yes.”

Castiel held out the fake angel blade. “Kill those two for me, would you?”

Dean leaned forward in a heat of passion, kissing Castiel deeply and grabbing the knife. “Of course. Of course. Anything for you.”

Dean turned to look at the two people in question.

One, his brother, looking angrier than he had ever seen before.

The second, someone who resembled his angel, looking terribly, horribly, utterly destroyed.


	13. Another Way Dean Could Come Out

Dean and Claire had this game.

See, both were still a little uncomfortable with their own sexuality, so they decided to help each other out a little.

When Claire saw a pretty girl, she would say aloud what attracted her attention.

“Hair.” “Boobs.” “Butt.” “Is that a fucking cat?!”

And, in return, Dean did the same when he saw a pretty boy.

“Leather jacket.” “That ass.” “Is that a ‘66 Mustang holy shit!”

Problem was, they’d been doing it for so long that it came naturally.

So, really, Claire should be blamed.

Because Dean was eating lunch with Sam. And as their waiter turned away, he wolf-whistled and said to Sam, “It’s gotta be that ass.”


	14. Gone

Dean clutched the archangel blade tightly, shoulders pressed against Sam and Cas.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, trying to swallow his own nerves.

Castiel stared down the freezer door and nodded. “We’re in your head. He only dies if you do it.”

Sam pressed his side against Dean’s harder, trying to be reassuring. “You can do this, Dean. I know you can.”

Dean took a deep breath before nodding, and the door swung open with a bang.

—

Castiel laughed as he came inside the bar, Sam trailing behind him and both soaked to the bone.

“I _told_ you we needed an umbrella!” Sam said through his own laughs, shaking his hair out.

Cas pulled off his trenchcoat and hung it on the rack. “I happen to like the rain.” He caught Dean’s eye and grinned wide.

“Dean! Dean!

—

DEAN!” Castiel shouted, yanking at Dean’s shoulders. “You _have_ to focus! We are real, do you hear me?! Sam and I are real! You can’t let Michael

—

When are you going to clean this place up?” Castiel teased, swiping a finger across the bar.

Dean blinked a few times, shaking his head. “Um, sorry. I wasn’t really…” He saw Castiel’s blinding smile and returned it softly. “I cleaned it today actually, thank you very much. How was the hunt?”

“It wasn’t bad, but the cops just wouldn’t listen

—

to me!” Sam was yelling, wind swirling through the empty bar. Lights were bursting. “You have to kill Michael! You have to

—

tell me how you’ve been without me,” Castiel teased, sitting on a barstool.

Dean blinked hard, looking around. “Wasn’t… Wasn’t Sam just here?”

“I don’t think so. He’s at home with Eileen. I imagine he missed her _almost_ as much as I missed you.”

Dean laughed slightly, glanced down. Everything froze as he stared at the archangel blade in his hand.

“I missed you,” Castiel repeated, closer, breath against Dean’s ear.

“Are you real?” Dean whispered.

“I’m as real as you

—

PLEASE!” Castiel begged, yelling to be heard over the rising storm. “I

—

love you,” Castiel whispered back, hand resting at the back of Dean’s neck. “I

–

don’t understand,” came the soft voice of Castiel, eyebrows furrowed in desperate confusion.

Dean let out a desperate sound, head clutched in his hands. “I don’t know what’s real!” he screamed.

Sam’s hands clutched at Dean’s wrists, yanking them away to stare him in the eyes. “Listen to me! Dean, you have to

—

kiss me,” Cas whispered against Dean’s lips before they parted gently, sound giving way to taste and touch.

—

“I missed you,” Castiel whispered against Dean’s mouth.

Dean dropped whatever he had been holding – a bottle, no doubt – and held Castiel’s face with the fervor of a man who has never been kissed before.

But that was ridiculous. He had kissed Castiel thousands of times. It was just that every time felt like the first.

With a bright smile against bright lips, Dean Winchester was gone.


	15. The Rope

I once said

That freedom is a length of rope.

I believe now I was deluded.

Freedom is not the rope,

Or

If it is

It is too short to hang yourself with.

Freedom is all in the way you look at things.

Now,

Now that I see you,

I understand.

Love is a length of rope

And I watched you hang yourself with it.

(The bottom of the ocean

Is an odd place

To hang yourself.)

(my dear)

(wait for me)


	16. Wonder

Dean wondered.

He wondered a lot, these days. He wondered what the future held, how long he would be underwater until the world imploded.

But sometimes, late at night, he wondered what Castiel tasted like.

When Castiel would smile at him, sunlight streaking in through the window, Dean would think that he probably tasted like summer and sangrias, like flowers on the end of your tongue.

When Castiel would get lost in a book, curled up in the library, Dean thought maybe he tasted like warm tea and incense, with a gentleness that just might lull you to sleep if you let it.

When Castiel fought, Dean would think that maybe he tasted harsh and desperate, more teeth than tongue, like whiskey and fire.

Dean did eventually find out. He stole a kiss to keep him company under all those pounds of water, one good memory to hold onto.

When Castiel’s lips met his own, Dean wished he had never leaned in.

Because now, stuck for eternity under the ocean, he knew.

Castiel tasted like home.


	17. Bed Sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Imagine your OTP having to share an air mattress for the night. Person A is already in bed and comfortable, and person B, very tired from the day, flops down on the other side, thus launching A into the air.

Dean groans when he sees the inside of the house he and Cas have decided to squat in for the hunt.

Gross is an understatement.

It looks like rats have been inbreeding on the bed, goddammit!

Dean sighs and sends a quick text to Castiel, telling him to hurry back with the food. No way are they eating anything still left in that fridge.

Does it even still work?

Dean shudders and heads back to the Impala, grabbing disinfectant wipes (don’t say a fucking word) and the air mattress he has saved for shit just like this.

He turns the air pump on in the cleanest spot on the floor and heads outside to breathe some fresh air. He should wait for Cas to get back before going to sleep. It’s only right.

He’s out as soon as he turns the air pump off.

Dean vaguely stirs as Cas walks in holding a paper bag filled with what Cas assumes is appropriately greasy food.

“Dean,” Castiel announces, sitting the bag down on a nearby table that smells faintly of disinfectant.

Dean grunts, snuggling further into the mattress.

“Dean,” Cas tries again.

“Go t’ sleep, Cas,” Dean mumbles, eyes still closed, fully unaware of how unlikely that is.

Castiel watches him for a moment before nodding to himself and toeing his shoes off (because Dean had told him exactly four hundred and ninety-one times that sleeping with shoes on is just plain _weird_.)

Castiel has seen many things in his time. He has watched the creation of man, the rise of Adam, the fall of empires.

He has seen the devil himself and walked away, unscathed.

Yet none of that prepares him for the sharp noise Dean makes as Castiel plops down on the other side of the air mattress.

It is rather graceful, Castiel thinks absently, the way Dean curls through the air, landing directly on the bed.

That is good, Cas thinks. A soft landing.

Except _now_ Dean is an absolute blur of flurrying limbs and colorful obscenities that are an octave higher than usual. He launches himself off the bed, hurriedly tugging off his shirt and throwing it far away.

“CASTIEL, WHAT THE **FUCK?!”** Dean yells, frantically brushing at every inch of skin on himself. “That was _disgusting!_ Oh my god. _OH_ my god. Do I have any diseases? Cas! What the hell, man?!”

Castiel blinks slowly, processing as he watches the Righteous Man squirm his way towards the bathroom sink. “You told me to go to sleep. I assumed you meant beside you.”

Dean turns the water on and groans at the brown color. “It’s an _air mattress,_ man! Those things are like catapults on steroids!”

“I… don’t understand.”

Dean huffs and looks back at Cas, sitting perplexed on the mattress. “This is payback,” Dean tells him matter-of-factly before running and landing on the mattress, successfully launching Cas into the air.

Except maybe Cas is a bit more graceful than him, or maybe Cas is just a little shit, or maybe (definitely) Cas has more experience with flying.

Because the angel lands on top of Dean, knocking the breath out of him in more ways than one.

“Hello,” Cas says, nose brushing Dean’s.

And Dean is painfully aware of the fact that he is now shirtless. “Um, heya, buddy.”

Cas lays his head beside Dean’s, snuggling him fondly. “Thank you. This is actually perfect,” Castiel says.

“I didn’t mean to-” Dean cuts himself off, suddenly aware of the heat radiating from Castiel’s body. The house… _is_ pretty cold… And there’s no way the heat works in this dump…

Dean slowly wraps his arms around Cas, settling back down. “Yeah, no problem, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

And maybe Dean smiles just a little as he says, “Goodnight, Castiel.”


End file.
